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But no. He stood before the boy’s own father. The duke consort himself.
Fiore wondered how swiftly and surreptitiously he could leap out of the window. He suppressed the urge and bowed instead. The duke consort didn’t seem upset to find his son in Fiore’s company. Perhaps he didn’t yet realize who Fiore was, and Fiore might still escape unscathed.
“You must be Signor Fiore,” said the duke consort.
Fiore reconsidered the window.
The duke consort turned to his son. “Did you introduce yourself?”
The lordling, who had ducked behind his father in the meantime, said nothing.
“Signor Fiore,” said the duke consort. “This is Lord Andrea Scaevola, Count of Havenscry.”
Fiore bowed deeply and informed the lordling it was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.
“Andrea,” the duke consort continued, “this is Signor Fiore—Uncle Enzo’s friend.”
Again that poor little word held more meaning than it could very well bear. Fiore continued smiling.
The lordling seemed to take it all very well until Enzo’s name dropt from his father’s lips. Then his eyes flew very wide. He stared up at Fiore with something between awe and terror.
“What a ferocious wolf you’ve drawn,” the duke consort told his son, relieving Fiore of having to break the awkward silence and distracting his son from his fears in one fell swoop. “What do we say to repay Signor Fiore for his hospitality in keeping you company?”
This, at last, was a line the lordling had evidently studied for. “Thank you, Signor Fiore.”
Fiore truthfully informed him it was nothing.
“Pray excuse us,” said the duke consort. “His lordship has skipped his geography lesson and has much to catch up.”
With more relief than he dared express, Fiore bowed and allowed the duke consort and his noble son to withdraw. He waited until their footsteps had echoed away altogether before he fled back to Enzo.
The bedchamber door opened to reveal Enzo still abed but awake with a book in hand. He glanced up with an expectant smile that froze as he beheld Fiore’s face. “Are you all right?”
“Possibly,” said Fiore. At Enzo’s bewildered look, he added, “I think I just met your nephew.”
“Andrea?”
Fiore nodded.
Enzo seemed a touch surprised but not even half as panicked as Fiore felt. “Oh. How did it go?”
“I don’t know. I met his father as well.”
“Antonio?”
“There was a lot more to his name when he introduced himself.”
A huff of laughter escaped Enzo, mercifully not followed by a cough. “I’m afraid that runs in the family. Won’t you sit down?”
Fiore, who’d stood in the doorway all the while, found the wherewithal to join Enzo on the bed. His pulse had ceased pounding. He wished he could smile. “Will they be vexed, d’you think? The duke and her consort?”
“Why should they be?”
Because a common courtesan thought himself worthy of speaking with their impressionable heirs.“I don’t know.”
“They might be vexed with Andrea for wandering off. I’m assuming that’s how you met him.”
Fiore nodded. “He found me in the trophy hall. I leant him some paper so he might draw alongside me.”
